


A Day at the Castle

by ghostgirl19



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: But they're not in a relationship since they're only kids..., F/M, Humor, Kid!Zelda, Mostly cute fluff, Pre-Calamity, Romance-ish, kid!link, zelink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:27:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26489425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostgirl19/pseuds/ghostgirl19
Summary: “Purah told me those are in dangered!” she snaps. “And you killed it! You silent princess killer!”Link's father is called to Hyrule Castle to speak to the King and Queen, and Link meets Princess Zelda.It doesn't go as expected.
Relationships: Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 97





	A Day at the Castle

**Author's Note:**

> I know Impa is likely only a few years older than Link and Zelda, but just ignore that please xD  
> Hope you enjoy!

Link isn’t sure if he should be offended or not.

When his father had asked him if he wanted to go with him when he would next meet with the king, Link had enthusiastically agreed. His father had described the opulence of Hyrule Castle, enchanting his son with tales of brave knights, towering spires, and a grand king who ruled wise and fair.

To say the least, Link was excited.

But not long after he met the King and Queen, Link had been escorted out of the sanctum by a tall Sheikah woman with long, white hair that the queen introduced as Impa.

_“Impa, please take Link into the garden while we speak.”_

At first, Link was infuriated and had no qualms of showing it. He stomped his right, booted foot on the floor, the action producing a satisfying ‘boom’ that echoed throughout the spacious room. He crossed his arms and complained to his father, arguing that he promised he could meet the king and queen and that he had said nothing about Link being forced to leave.

Unfortunately, his father didn’t quite agree with his sentiments. He was quick to scold him for his misbehavior and told to apologize to the burly man and slender woman sitting on their respective thrones.

Link scowled, obviously displeased, but obeyed his father, nonetheless.

King Rhoam had accepted with a slight curl to his lips. Queen Zelda smiled softly, before insisting that they were just going to talk about ‘boring grown-up stuff’ and that Link would have a much better time spent in the royal gardens.

He didn’t think so but didn’t voice his opinion. After all, what was the point of talking when he’d just get yelled at for it?

Which leads him to now, walking with his head down beside the stoic Sheikah woman.

It’s not fair. He’s five years old; that’s halfway to ten! He’s almost an adult! He had no problems beating one in a swordfight, so why should he not be allowed to talk with the grown-ups?

“Keep your chin up, child,” Impa says suddenly, surprising him enough to cause Link to stumble and sharply glance up at the Sheikah.

She peers down at him and smiles. Link had no idea she could do that up until now. He’s so shocked that he completely disregards that she called him a child and not the man he is.

“You wish to grow up and become a knight in the royal guard, just like your father. Correct?”

Link’s eyes widen. How did she know? Was the sword strapped to his back really all that telling?

Impa’s smile stretches to a sly grin. Her dark red eyes are virtually twinkling, and it’s enough to capture Link’s interest.

“Well, no knight worth his boots can call himself a royal guard without first meeting Princess Zelda.”

Link’s lips part and he gazes up in wonder at Impa. Princess Zelda? His father had mentioned her in passing, but he never got anything concrete about her. Although, he knew that she must be very pretty, because all the princesses in the stories that his mother read to him were.

Impa suppresses her grin at the look of intrigue on the young boy’s face. It appears that her plan to make him forget—at least for a little while—about being forced to leave the king, queen, and his father to talk is working.

“I believe she’s about your age, just a year younger,” she adds, purposefully keeping her eyes off the curious boy and choosing to keep them rolled thoughtfully up at the ceiling. “She’s actually in the gardens right now as we speak.”

Those large, blue eyes impossibly widen more as a gasp leaves his throat.

He’s going to meet Princess Zelda? A real princess? Like one from the stories? _And_ he’ll make progress into becoming a royal guard by meeting her?

“Let’s go!” he exclaims, running ahead of Impa. She’ll tell him if he goes the wrong way, he’s sure.

Meanwhile, Impa continues her stride down the hall, nearly humming a little tune of satisfaction as she went.

Hook, line, and sinker.

* * *

Zelda doesn’t know where Impa went, but she’s sure that she’ll be back soon. Her protector is always with her and seldom leaves her alone.

Although, she can’t say that she’s alone right now. At this very moment, she has the pleasure of being in the company of a Sheikah boy playing an instrument. A lyre, he had called it, and he was rather good at playing it. Why, he even knew her special lullaby!

Zelda claps her hands together as the final notes of the lyre ring out. Instead of the soothing lullaby he first played for her, this one in contrast had been more upbeat and compelled her to wiggle around in her spot on the stone bench she was seated on.

She knows that she was probably distracting him by doing that, yet he never said a word if she was, and his music continued without missing a single note.

“Again! Again, please!” she begs, clasping her hands together and being sure to look up at him through her eyelashes. The puppy-dog eyes had never failed her before. Even Impa, as stern as she could be sometimes, usually fell victim to them.

Harcino grins, seemingly all too happy to comply with her demands. “Anything for you, Princess.”

Zelda’s mouth opens in a blindingly happy smile. “Thank you, Harcino!”

He nods, giving her an indulgent grin that always followed whenever she captured her latest prey with the puppy eyes. She sits patiently and waits with bated breath for him to begin, hands clasped together and in front of her chest to contain her eagerness, but her attention is suddenly called elsewhere by the sound of her name.

She knows that voice and jerks her head around so sharply that her golden hair flies with the movement. Despite the harsh movement, a stray lock lands gently on her shoulder that helps to cutely frame her soft features, although she isn’t aware of this.

Her green eyes light up upon seeing that her protector is back, and she is about to happily call out her name, but then her gaze travels lower, to the little boy standing in front of Impa.

His head reaches to just above Impa’s knees. He has dirty blond hair, with twin locks hanging down each side of his head. A small portion of excess hair is held in a low ponytail in the back. But it’s his eyes that transfix the young princess. They’re the nicest blue she has ever seen, like the sky or Lake Hylia. She’s seen a few guards around the castle with blue eyes, but none could hold a candle to this boy’s.

They’re special…and staring unblinkingly back at her.

 _Pretty_ , is Link’s first thought when he finally sees Princess Zelda for the first time. She’s very pretty. Prettier than _—_ he glances at the radiant, golden strands of her hair—than the sunrise this morning!

Indeed, the sun is all he could think of when looking at her hair. It's the same color and holds the same brilliance as the sun itself; he knows it. But just to be sure…

He peers up at the object in question overhead, then ducks his head back down and blinks away the mild sting in his eyes.

Yes, just like the sun! But thankfully he doesn’t see those annoying spots no matter how long he gazes at Princess Zelda’s hair.

Speaking of, she’s tilting her head at him, dark blonde eyebrows furrowed over a set of green eyes that remind him of the glowing sunset fireflies he would often catch with his mother during the summer.

Her lips are pursed as she carries on studying him. She must be uncomfortable by how he won’t stop staring at her, but he finds that he _can’t_ for some inexplicable reason.

Those lips part, and her voice brings him back to himself.

“Who are you?”

Her voice is light, though possesses a sort of elegance that he can’t hear in the other girls in his village. He likes it and wouldn’t mind listening to her more; Princess Zelda could probably teach him all his math lessons and he wouldn’t get bored, unlike with his teacher back home.

Come to think of it, her voice sort of reminds him of Mipha’s, yet it lacks the maturity that the older Zora has. And the emotion, for that matter. Mipha, though very nice, is always speaking so softly and controlled. You can never tell how she’s feeling by just listening to her talk.

It lacks feeling, and judging from how Princess Zelda sounds…

Link frowns; she doesn’t sound as captivated as he is with her.

Behind him, Impa purposefully clears her throat. The princess, noticing this, immediately straightens and rests her clasped hands in her lap.

“Sorry, Impa,” she apologizes, before drawing down her eyebrows and scrunching up her nose. She takes a deep breath, puffs out her chest, and gives Link what is perhaps one of the meanest scowls he’s ever seen in his short five years of life.

“Halt! State your name and purpose!”

Link involuntarily takes a step back. He hasn’t felt this intimidated since the time he sparred with a soldier 16 years his senior (a match that he won, by the way). He doesn’t notice Impa’s exasperated groan.

“I’m Link!” he barks, straightening his shoulders back and twists his features into the stern expression he saw the knights stationed around the castle have. “I’m here to meet you, Princess!”

Princess Zelda’s glower falters, then falls away completely. To Link’s relief, she isn’t showing a hint of the unkindness he just had the misfortune of catching a glimpse of.

“You’re here to meet me?” she asks, tilting her head in that way that causes a portion of her hair to cascade off to the side. “Why?”

Impa takes that opportunity to clear her throat and place her hands on Link’s shoulders.

“Princess Zelda, this is Link. He’s come to the castle with his father today, and he was _very_ excited to meet you.”

Link’s eyes widen and to his growing mortification, he feels his cheeks burn. _Why_ did she have to say it like _that_? This is _so_ embarrassing…

Princess Zelda blinks, then raises a hand to her mouth to muffle her giggles. Link likes the sweet, airy sound, but it doesn’t make him feel any better. He scrunches up his shoulders and bows his head lower, hoping that it would make it harder to see his rapidly reddening face.

A derisive snort has his head snapping back up, embarrassment left temporary and forgotten. That noise hadn’t come from Princess Zelda; it was too boyish to have come from the cute girl across from him.

His questioning gaze shifts to the right, and what he sees has his lips flatten to a line and evokes him to stand just a little taller in the face of the judging sneer painted on the boy’s features.

Based on the boy’s crimson eyes and snowy-white hair, of which is kept pulled back tight in a top knot, Link concludes that the boy is a Sheikah. After all, he already knows Impa is one, and since they share similar features, this boy must be one too. He appears to be Link’s age, perhaps a year older, but no more than two.

He’s holding a golden harp, at least Link believes it’s a harp. Weren’t those supposed to be huge? He’s never seen one this small before.

Before Link can ask about it, the Sheikah boy opens his mouth and interrupts.

“Aren’t you a little too young to be playing with swords?”

Link bristles, not only at the boy’s wording (he does not _play_ with swords!) but at the scornful tone he used. The Sheikah boy is looking down at him with a mocking grin, nose tipped up in the air as if he was the important one in the gardens and not Princess Zelda.

“You’re what?” The boy taunts when Link doesn’t offer anything more than a pair of clenched fists, a glare and a tightened jaw. “Three? Four?”

“Five and a half,” he growls.

Link usually tries to get along with everyone, but something is rubbing him wrong about this boy. Perhaps it was the way he belittled Link with every word that spilled out of his mouth thus far, but Link was used to jeers thrown in the heat of jealousy from other boys his age. Or maybe it was because he just noticed how close the boy was sitting beside the princess.

Link sees the way the boy’s eyes keep flicking back and forth between himself and Princess Zelda, obviously seeking a reaction from her, preferably praise. It’s exactly what Link does whenever he successfully performs a new attack taught to him and he’s looking for a visible sign of his father’s admiration.

Meanwhile, it seems that poor Princess Zelda herself has no idea what’s going on. Her green gaze keeps shifting from Link to the boy, brows slightly lowered in her puzzlement. She can’t understand why these two have an almost instantaneous dislike of one another.

“Still,” the Sheikah says, a glower tugging at his lips when he doesn’t get any verbal approval from Princess Zelda. “You’re too little to be carrying around a sword. Unless it’s a toy one,” he snickers.

Link’s neutral expression doesn’t change as he slides the very real sword out of its very real sheath on his back. While short and light to accommodate for his age, it’s still a formidable weapon in the right hands—i.e., his own. The sharpened metal gleams in the light, not a scratch or dent to be seen. It was a custom piece, carefully crafted by the best swordsmith in Castle Town that his father commissioned for his fifth birthday. He polishes it every night and handles it with the utmost respect; and he wields it with pride.

He is especially thankful now for his diligence in caring for the weapon, as he sees Princess Zelda’s eyes light up with interest while the boy’s narrow in irritation upon noticing her reaction himself.

“Doesn’t matter,” the boy scoffs. “That sword is useless unless you know how to use it.”

“I’ve beaten grown-ups before,” Link retorts but is met with mocking, disbelieving laughter.

“Yeah, right! A baby like you can’t beat a grown-up! You’re lying!”

“I’m not lying!” Link shouts indignantly. His grip on the hilt of his sword tightens, and while Link was taught ever since he could hold one that you should never point it at an unarmed man, right now he’s very tempted to with the infuriating Sheikah in hopes of intimidating him at the very least.

He takes a half-step forward in his anger towards the boy, but falters at the sight of Princess Zelda’s crestfallen expression.

“Harcino’s right, Link. You shouldn’t lie like that.”

Link is an octo balloon, and Princess Zelda is the arrow that pierces his weak barrier and deflates him.

The Sheikah, Harcino he now knows, grins.

Link ignores him in favor of Princess Zelda who appears so utterly disappointed in him. It reminded him of his mother when she found out that he was the one who ‘seasoned’ a bully’s lunch with enough Goron spice that it made his face turn comically red as he coughed and wheezed, before he took off in a sprint to the well and nearly drained it of its water.

Groose never bullied Fledge again. Although, it’s worth noting he hardly had the time to when he was trapped in the privy for three days. By the time the effects of the spice had run its course, Groose was just thankful that he could relieve himself without howling in pain. 

Link hadn’t been all that affected when his mother rebuked him for it when she realized he was the culprit. But now, with the way Princess Zelda’s pretty green eyes are staring at him in a look so full of raw _disappointment_ …his heart twists painfully in his chest.

He knows it’s unlikely that a 5-and-a-half-year-old could beat an adult in a swordfight, but was it unable to be believed at all?

“I’m not lying, Princess, I can prove it!” he says, desperate to defend himself. “I’ll ask Impa to-”

-find him a guard to spar with, he would’ve said, if he hadn’t discovered that Impa had disappeared sometime in the midst of this chaotic situation. Or, as chaotic a situation it could be in the mind of a 5-year-old child.

Link turns his head this way and that, but is unable to find the mysterious Sheikah woman anywhere. It was as if she vanished; he heard no noise of her leaving at all!

“Come on, Princess,” Harcino beckons, readying his tiny harp to play. “We don’t have to talk to this liar.”

Link’s eyes alight in a rekindled fire. He opens his mouth to snap out a response, something along the lines of how he should mind his own business.

His mouth closes as he watches the princess give him one last, pitying glance. His stomach sinks as she turns toward Harcino to bestow him her undivided attention, all with a smile on her lips that he could’ve had for himself if things went just a bit differently.

Harcino places his fingers against the strings of the tiny harp and begins to play. Three short, yet distinctive notes ring out into the spring air. Link doesn’t recognize the tune, but he can begrudgingly admit that it sounds nice.

Princess Zelda, on the other hand, claps her hands together in delight.

“My lullaby! That’s my lullaby again!”

Link crosses his arms together and bends his head to hide his dejection. He didn’t know that the princess even _has_ a lullaby. Maybe she’d like him if he played it, too?

Ah, but there lies the problem. Despite his extraordinary skill with the blade, Link has no idea how to play any musical instruments. He’s seen Balon of Lon Lon Ranch raise a piece of grass to his mouth and _somehow_ produce a song out of it that called over his horse, to Link’s amazement. But no matter how many times Link tried to replicate the trick, all he got out of his efforts was the pain of failure and a blade of grass covered in spit.

Link scrunches up his nose and turns fully away from them. He can’t stand watching the way her eyes are sparkling, or how she’s leaning close to the tiny harp, wholly enchanted by the golden sheen and the heavenly notes that its master creates.

He doesn’t understand why he’s so aggravated by it. He met Princess Zelda, so that means he can be a royal guard worth his boots, right? Impa never said that the princess had to pay attention to him. He could leave right now and perhaps reunite with his father and argue his case so that he may stay by his side while he spoke to the king and queen.

He glances back at the two other children and his eyes narrow infinitesimally.

He doesn’t understand where this desire for the princess’s sole attention has come from, or the urge to rip Harcino away from her. All he knows is that he wants to see the interest she earlier displayed when he took his sword out of its sheath to prove it wasn’t a toy.

Wait a second. That might be it!

Now, Link doesn’t consider himself a show-off. Confident, perhaps overly confident at times, but not cocky. He doesn’t perform attacks or tricks to be the center of attention. To be honest, he’d rather stay out of the limelight completely.

However, in this moment, he wants nothing more than to show the princess all the skills he’s acquired thus far. He wants those eyes on him, and not on that stupid Harcino.

So, he takes his sword and completes a few practice lunges. He sprinkles in a few pretend parries, jabs, and even attempts to successfully recreate the heralded spin attack. He stumbles a bit, and he loses some of the initial strength and speed once he got halfway around, but overall, it’s a decent replication.

It would get the job done in a pinch, and he’s sure that it appears at least a little impressive from Princess Zelda’s perspective.

Panting softly and feeling a drop of sweat roll down his temple, he turns around for the verdict…and is dismayed by the lack of awareness from the princess. He can tell that her stare hadn’t moved from that stupid tiny harp the whole time he practiced.

Harcino noticed, if the small smirk playing at the corner of his mouth was any hint. 

Link glowers and raises his foot to satisfyingly stomp it on the ground, but something inside himself holds him back. It sounds suspiciously like his voice of reason that he often ignores in favor of doing more worthwhile things, like climbing trees to the tippy top or when he added that Goron spice to Groose’s lunch.

Harcino already sees him as a baby. It wouldn’t do good to prove him right. Throwing a tantrum in front of the princess because she wasn’t looking at him would most assuredly prove that he’s nothing more than a whiny baby.

So, Link decides to stop and think of another solution to the problem.

What do girls like? Well, he knows they don’t like frogs. He learned his lesson that day when one of the village boys presented a frog to the girl he like-liked, only for it to end with her screaming in terror.

Which brings him back to what _do_ they like?

Hmm…

Link peers around the garden, and an idea hatches in his mind.

Flowers!

Yes, flowers! He knows that girls love them. Or, at least, his mother says she does whenever he picks them for her.

Why wouldn’t Princess Zelda like some? With the entirety of the royal gardens at his disposal, finding a few worthy ones should be easy!

* * *

This isn’t easy.

Link has been at this for three days. Okay, his father would likely tell him it’s only been five minutes, but it feels like three whole days have passed since he’s started his search!

There’s pink flowers and red ones, orange and yellow, even white and black. Alas, they’re all flowers that he’s seen plenty of times around his home in Hateno and in vast, open areas like Blatchery Plain and Hyrule Field. They were easy flowers to find, and while they looked pretty, they weren’t worthy of presenting to Princess Zelda.

He found a few swift violets growing along the walls enclosing the gardens and briefly considered picking those, then thought better of it. They were nice, and not so commonly found, but they were so _plain_! He wouldn’t get Princess Zelda’s attention with swift violets.

A major contender in his quest came in the form of a cluster of blue nightshades. They weren’t plain at all; they were a beautiful blue and their blooms reminded him of little bells.

His fingers were wrapped around the stem when he remembered a crucial detail.

While blue nightshades were lovely by themselves, they truly shined at night. Literally. When the sun goes down, their blossoms emit a blue glow that renders anyone who gazes at them completely spellbound by their beauty.

The sun is still high in the sky, so Princess Zelda wouldn’t be able to fully appreciate the blue nightshade’s splendor if he gave it to her.

With a disappointed sigh, he continues his search. He looks high and low, side to side, _anywhere_ that might have what he’s looking for. This is the royal gardens; there _has_ to be a worthy flower somewhere out here!

It’s when he’s crawling around on his hands and knees, uncaring of the dirt and grass stains on his trousers that his mother will undoubtedly complain about removing later, that he spots it.

He halts in his tracks. The flower is growing all by itself under a stone bench and it’s unlike any flower Link has ever seen before. Its stem is long, with a closed bulb on one side, but the one that is open causes his breath to hitch in his throat from the simplistic yet unique beauty of it.

The flower possesses five petals. They are each a blue in color that reminds him of the sky on a clear, summer day, mixed with a pure white that reminds him of the snow in the Hebra mountains running along the edges and the ends of the petals. Several, thin stalks bear little balls of…(pollen?) at the tips, but it’s the one in the center that leaves him in awe.

For this one displays three, tiny golden bits of pollen (Is it pollen? Link isn’t sure) that perfectly matches Princess Zelda’s pretty hair that reminds him of the sun itself. He thought the flower was beautiful before, but now even more so since all he can think of when gazing at it is Princess Zelda herself.

This is it. This is the flower that’s going to win her attention.

Without another thought, he unsheathes his sword and makes a clean cut through the stem.

…

Link is fidgeting. Future knights don’t fidget, so why is he doing so now? He can’t be nervous about giving Princess Zelda his flower, right?

Oh, who is he kidding? He’s downright terrified. If the fidgeting doesn’t give it away, his flushed cheeks and hairline dripping in sweat would. He’s amazed that no one has heard his rapidly accelerating heartbeat, because its as loud as an iron sledgehammer in his ears.

Link almost considers turning tail and fleeing from the heat of battle, something he’s _never_ done. Luckily, that rational voice from earlier stills his twitching legs.

He’s searched for Hylia knows how long for this flower, and he’s not going to let his efforts go to waste now that he’s finally found it! He’s going to march over there, give the flower to the princess, then stick his tongue in Harcino’s face when she gushes over his gift.

Yes! That’s exactly what he’s going to do…after Harcino finishes the song he’s playing.

No! He has to make his move, now! Otherwise he may never work up the courage again.

Link swallows, takes a deep breath, straightens his spine, squares his shoulders, and walks forward.

Harcino sees him approaching and his finger flicks a harp string prematurely, the action emitting a sharp, sour note into the air. He scowls darkly at Link for the interruption, silently letting him know that his presence isn’t wanted here.

Link ignores him in favor of Princess Zelda, who has swiveled her head towards him with curiosity shining brightly in her large, evergreen eyes. She’s waiting expectantly for him to speak, keeping her question of why he interrupted the song to herself, for now.

“I-“ Link starts, then stops. The entirety of his face probably resembles the crest of a hotfeather pigeon, from how badly he can feel it burning.

“Yes?” Princess Zelda prompts innocently.

He clenches his fist, the one not concealed behind his back. He can do this. He can do this!

“I-I brought you a present,” he declares at last, the words coming out in a rushed, single breath.

The effect is instantaneous. Princess Zelda’s features light up in delight. She claps her hands together and holds them above her heart in excitement. Her eyes trail down to the arm he’s keeping behind his back, and she wiggles in her seat as she’s staring at him, eager for him to reveal whatever it was he was hiding.

“A present? For me?” she chirps. Goddesses, she's positively _beaming_.

Link was wrong. Her hair isn’t the sun; her _smile_ is. And at that very moment, he realizes that he would do anything to feel it’s warmth upon him again and again, forever and ever.

Her smile gives him the courage to reveal the special flower.

He opens his mouth, ready to tell her how ardently he looked for a flower worthy of her. How when he saw this one, he knew that she was meant to have it. The very plant reminded him of her, after all.

So, imagine his bewilderment when her eyes abruptly darken in fury.

“You killed it!” she cries, jabbing a finger at him. Her sudden shift in temperament leaves him reeling, unable to say a word in his shock. The flower falls from his limp fingers, but Princess Zelda hardly notices. She’s too busy trying to make burst him into flames with her glare alone.

Thank Hylia that looks can’t kill.

“Purah told me those are in dangered!” she snaps. “And you killed it! You silent princess killer!”

In dangered? He doesn’t even know what that means. Silent princess; is that the flower’s name? And who’s Purah?

Link doesn’t know what to do. He’s confused yet still astonished over the turn of events. This wasn’t supposed to happen; she was supposed to like the flower-er, silent princess. At the worst, he expected her to reject it, but to yell at him and call him a silent princess killer?

He tries to apologize, despite still not understanding where he went wrong, but the princess cruelly cuts him off.

“Go away! I never want to see you again!”

Link steps back, jaw dropped.

Princess Zelda spins her head away from him and hmph’s, crossing her arms. She doesn’t bother to watch Link as she waits for her command be obeyed. She doesn’t care that she just essentially ripped out his heart, threw it on the ground, and stomped on it.

And all the while, Harcino is sitting there with a broad smirk enjoying the show.

Link takes another trembling step back.

He’s unable to speak. His throat feels clogged, and his nose stuffy. There’s a foreign trembling in his chin that he can’t stop. His eyes are stinging, and when he blinks, his eyelashes are mysteriously wet.

Is he crying?

No, he’s not crying! Big boys don’t cry. Knights don’t cry. Royal guards _especially_ don’t cry! He can never be any of the three if he cries now.

He feels a hand on his shoulder. Startled, he whips his head up to lock eyes with none other than Impa.

She peers down at him with a pitying smile.

“Come on,” she whispers, then gently pushes on his shoulder to get him to walk with her. He does so without hesitation. He can’t be near the princess that he might like-like, knowing that she hates his guts. And the way that stupid Harcino is grinning _so arrogantly_ is making him feel angrier and more humiliated than he’s ever been in his life.

He almost ignores Impa entirely and cuts down Harcino where he sits with his sword when the smug jerk sticks out his tongue at him.

But Impa, likely sensing his murderous shift in attitude, prods him again to leave with her.

He sighs, letting his stance relax. It isn’t worth it. Besides, Princess Zelda would hate him more if he killed the musician she adores so much.

He leaves the gardens without a backward glance.

And misses the dulled green eyes follow him in regret.

* * *

Impa sighs as she once more glances back at the boy trailing behind her.

Poor boy. She’d witnessed the entire thing. He literally crawled around on his hands and knees to search for the perfect flower and the princess threw his gesture right back in his face.

Impa knows that Zelda has a right to be angry; she fell in love with silent princess flowers the moment she saw one. However, she had no right to be so cruel to Link. Even if she is only four years old, she knows better than to yell in a person’s face and nearly make them cry. Yet Impa can’t fault Zelda entirely; she hasn’t yet matured enough to realize how her callous behavior deeply hurt Link.

Speaking of, he’s been silent ever since she guided him out of the gardens and back inside the castle. Occasionally she’d hear a sniffle, or the rustle of cotton as he’d furiously swipe his arm over his eyes.

She pointedly ignored the wet blots dotting the fabric of his sleeve.

Hopefully, her plan to get the two to reconcile will work. She knows that the Queen hardly expected this kind of outcome when she discreetly asked Impa to introduce the budding knight to his future sovereign.

They’ve been walking for a quarter of an hour when she finally hears him speak, although his voice is lower and void of the excitement she had heard earlier that day.

“Where are we going?”

Impa turns around and smiles. “We’re going to the kitchens.”

A switch was flipped on, for that is the only explanation that the Sheikah can think of when his eyes widen, a sudden longing (and hunger?) in those depths and his lips part.

“The kitchens?” he asks, breathlessly. “Really?”

Impa grins. “Yes. I have an idea of how to get you back on Princess Zelda’s good side.”

And just like that, the switch flips off and the boy deflates.

“But she hates me,” he mumbles.

Impa shakes her head. “No, she doesn’t hate you. I don’t think Princess Zelda can hate anyone. She’s just a little cross with you right now. But don’t worry, I know just the thing that will fix it.”

When he hesitantly peers up, Impa is relieved to see the emotion she’s been waiting for.

Hope.

* * *

Zelda absently twirls the stem of the silent princess in her fingers.

Purah said they are in dangered. If they aren’t careful, all of the silent princesses throughout the whole, wide world could one day be gone. They’d never be able to see the pretty flowers again.

Link shouldn’t have picked it. He should’ve left it alone. He’s a silent princess killer and she should be angry about it.

But she found that she couldn’t maintain her furious state once she noticed how sad he looked. His head was down, and she could faintly make out his chin trembling. Those were likely the signs that he’d been about to cry. She knows; she remembers how she barely held back tears when her father accidentally stepped on her favorite doll and broke its arm. 

Luckily the magic powers her mother possesses were able to fix it. But she doesn't think her mother's power will be able to fix Link's hurt feelings.

Link might not have known about the silent princess. He probably thought it was a normal flower that he wished to give to her. Boys only give flowers to girls they like-like, at least that’s what she heard. Does Link like-like her?

The thought brings a strange heat to her cheeks, so she quickly shakes the thought away. No way could she like-like Link; he’s a boy and boys have cooties. Although, she supposes that she can’t catch them if she’s simply his friend. She can get as close as she wants, just as long as she doesn’t like-like him. Then she will never get cooties!

She glances down, and at the reminder of what lay in her hold, Zelda sighs.

She was so horrible to Link today. There’s no way he wants to be her friend, now.

“Are you sure you don’t want another song?” Harcino asks from beside her. He holds the lyre out, trying to coax her with memories of beautiful melodies. “I can play anything you want, Princess. Just name it, and I can play it!” he boasts.

Unfortunately for him, Zelda merely shakes her head without taking her eyes off the flower.

“I don’t want music.”

She wants to apologize but doesn’t say it aloud.

Harcino groans, exasperated by the melancholy princess. It doesn’t help that he has a good hunch of who she is feeling so regretful about.

“Princess, he’s a silent princess killer, remember? He doesn’t deserve your guilt. Besides, he’s a liar too. It’s impossible for a baby like him to beat a grown-up in a swordfight, no matter how real his sword looked. It’s probably wood that he painted to look like metal. _And_ he’s a peasant, he has no right to even be standing in the same room as you, let alone next to you. If you ask me, he’s nothing but a-”

Zelda would never know what Harcino intended to call Link, and she didn’t want to know, if only in consideration for his own safety. She whirls around so sharply that the Sheikah boy, caught off guard, reels backward and flails his arms to prevent himself from falling off the bench altogether.

The young princess’s eyes are narrowed in a similar, thunderous rage that Harcino once thought to be reserved for Link, but now has been sentenced upon him.

He gulps.

“Shut up, Harcino! I don’t care what you think of Link, because he’s my friend!”

She’s aware it’s a lie. She hasn’t forgotten of how Link would probably never forgive her. Nevertheless, she continues her rant charged with a temper she rarely ever lets out. She hopes that twice in one day will be enough.

“He probably didn’t know about silent princesses. And I don’t care if he lied about beating a grown-up, it’s a good story! And you’re no better, because I doubt that you _really_ know every song in the world. And you’re a peasant, too! So, if Link shouldn’t be here, then _you,_ ” she points her finger at his nose, “shouldn’t be here either, you-you big meanie!”

Harcino is gaping by the end of her passionate speech. Its spoken in an immature, high-pitched voice, yet it gets the job done. The aspiring musician is shocked into silence. Oh, he tries, to somehow defend himself, but given the way his mouth opens and closes with nothing coming out, he appears to be no more than a Hyrule bass out of water.

Zelda stares at him hard with the fiercest scowl her fair features can muster. Satisfied, she nods once then resolutely looks away, only to see something that has her breath catch in her throat and the glower to fade.

…

Link finds himself fidgeting once more under her stare. At least he can see wonderment in her gaze this time and not the hateful look she directed on him earlier.

He’s never felt so nervous in his whole life. Nonetheless, he manages to keep his hold steady on the plate in his hands. He spent an hour baking a fruitcake with Impa, and he will not let this slice fall to the ground and let her efforts go to waste. Besides, Princess Zelda would never forgive him if he let her supposedly favorite dessert drop to the ground right in front of her.

_“I don’t care what you think of Link, because he’s my friend!”_

Did she mean it? Or was she honorably standing up for him because he wasn’t there to do so? If so, does that mean that she's still mad at him? Well, only one way to find out.

“I’m sorry about your silent princess,” he says in a low murmur. Princess Zelda doesn’t respond, and it takes it as a signal to keep talking. “I didn’t know it was in dangered. I’m really sorry.” He holds out the slice of fruitcake as a peace offering. “I made you this. Impa said it’s your favorite.”

Well, he technically had help making it, but Impa said that Princess Zelda doesn’t need to know that minor detail.

“I’m really, really sorry. I’ll never kill a silent princess again.”

Princess Zelda slowly blinks. Her lips are parted, and her eyes are wide, shining with an emotion he can’t place. With more grace Link has seen in other girls, she steps off the bench and slowly walks to him. She doesn’t appear happy nor angry by his apology. Link bites his lip; he’s hoping that’s a good thing.

Princess Zelda stops and keeps her stare pinned to his boots. Her hands are clasped together behind her back. He tilts his head, wondering what she’s doing, but his mouth falls open when he hears what she has to say.

“I’m sorry too, Link. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. I was a big meanie.” She bravely picks up her head to meet his stunned gaze. A corner of her mouth lifts in a tiny, tentative smile. “And you’re not a silent princess killer. You said that you’ll never kill one again, right?”

Link hurriedly nods, eliciting a giggle from the princess.

“Then that settles it! This time was an axe-dent. I’ll forgive you for it. Do you forgive me?”

Link repeats the same motion, his hair flying up and down with the movement. Princess Zelda giggles again, and his entire body freezes when she reaches up to pat down and tidy his unruly locks.

If his face resembles the wings of a summerwing butterfly, the princess doesn’t comment on it.

“Did you really make this fruitcake for me?”

Link nods yet again, although it’s slower, in fear of ruining her work. He gestures for Princess Zelda to take the plate and she squeals in happiness, yanks it out of his hands, and foregoes the silver fork entirely to grab a chunk with her bare hands and shove it in her mouth. Crumbs sticking to frosting coat her lips and decorate a little bit of her cheeks. She chews ravenously, the likes of which he would've never expected to witness from a well-bred princess.

It’s the most unladylike thing he’s ever seen.

Link has never been more in love.

While Princess Zelda is stuffing her face with fruitcake, Link’s focus shifts toward the forgotten Sheikah boy sitting on the bench. His crimson eyes are narrowed to slits, his teeth are clenched in a lividly jealous snarl, and he’s gripping the tiny harp so tightly his knuckles are white.

Link smirks and sticks out his tongue, thoroughly satisfied by how Harcino’s eyes widen in outrage.

Princess Zelda remains oblivious to the exchange. There are more important things that demand her attention.

It’s seconds later that the princess finally finishes devouring the cake. With a gleam in her eye, she starts licking each of her fingers clean of the white frosting. 

She should’ve used a napkin, is what a grown-up would probably say.

Link thinks she’s perfect.

After finishing with that, Princess Zelda claps her hands together and positively _beams_.

“Thank you, Link! That was the best fruitcake I ever had!”

He tries not to spontaneously combust on the spot. Princess Zelda laughs.

“I have an idea!” she says suddenly. “Let’s play Adventure!”

Link’s eyebrows knit together. He’s never heard of the game, but is intrigued, nonetheless.

She points at him. “You’ll be my pointed knight.”

Link isn’t sure what a pointed knight is either. Does she mean ‘appointed’ knight? He doesn’t have the heart to correct her; he believes he’s already on thin ice as it is.

She nods. “Yes, you’ll be perfect for it, ‘specially with that sword you have. Can I see it again?”

Unable to resist the allure of the hopeful sparkle in her eyes, he obliges and removes his sword from its sheath. As before, it gleams almost blindingly in the sunlight, prompting an excited gasp from the princess.

“Yes, yes! You’re perfect for my knight!”

Link wonders how many times she can make the blood rush to his face in one afternoon.

“I’ll be the princess, of course,” she decides, looking particularly proud of herself for that fact. Then she spins around and faces Harcino, who isn’t the picture of rage he was before, but is looking rather miserable all the same.

“And you, Harcino…”

The Shiekah boy starts at this. He straightens up, preening while he waits for the princess’s verdict. He imagines that he’ll be the prince that saves the day, or perhaps the court poet who woos her with his charming songs and sweeps her off her feet right under her knight’s nose.

“You can be the big, ugly pig demon!”

Link’s cheeks puff out in exertion of trying to hold in the sudden bout of laughter. Harcino’s reaction is priceless: his jaw looks unhinged from how much it’s hanging open. His eyes are as large as dinner plates, and in the distance, Link swears he hears a faint, womanly chuckle.

Harcino recovers quickly and crosses his arms together.

“I don’t want to be the big, ugly pig demon,” he protests, pouting.

 _Gee_ , Link thinks. _For someone who goes around calling people babies, he sure looks like one right now._

“But we need a pig demon!” Princess Zelda retorts. She smacks her hands together in the universal sign of the begging motion. “Please, Harcino? Please be our pig demon? We can’t play Adventure without a pig demon!”

“No!” he refuses, sharply shaking his head. “I don’t want to be the pig demon. I want to be the prince or the court poet.”

Princess Zelda scrunches up her nose. Apparently she isn’t a fan of that idea. She looks like she just smelled a hearty durian, in Link’s opinion, but wisely keeps his mouth shut.

“What do we need a prince or a court poet for? The stories always say it’s a brave knight, a fair princess, and a big, ugly _pig demon_!”

Harcino isn’t swayed otherwise. “I’m not being the pig demon.”

“Fine!” the princess snaps. She abruptly grabs Link’s hand, prompting another fierce blush to paint his cheeks. He’s never held hands with a girl before, especially not one as pretty as Princess Zelda.

“We’ll play without you. Come on, Link.”

Link is powerless against her and easily lets her pull him away off into another section of the gardens.

“Go ahead,” he hears Harcino shout, “See if I care! Playing’s for babies, anyway!”

Princess Zelda pointedly ignores him, never relinquishing her tight hold on his hand. Link is grinning ear-to-ear. He hopes this will be the last he’ll ever have to compete with that stupid Harcino.

* * *

It’s a couple hours later that three figures emerge into the gardens.

The first is a tall, bearded man dressed in royal attire befitting his high station. Next to him is a slightly shorter, slender woman of great beauty and divine power. The hem of her royal blue dress trails along the stone path as she gracefully walks, green eyes matching her daughter’s moving this way and that to locate her princess.

The last is a dirty blond man of average height walking behind them. He’s clothed in the blue and red uniform of the Royal Guard, white boots spotless and polished and his gloves with nary a speck of dust staining them.

The three adults are visibly confused when they can see no sign of their children anywhere, until Impa slips out of the shadows to stand before them and bows.

“Your Majesties, I shall take you to Princess Zelda. Captain, your son is with her, as well.”

The Captain raises his eyebrows, and the ghost of a smile tugs at his mouth. So, his son made friends with the princess, hmm? At least he’ll have an advocate someday when King Rhoam has to make the decision of permitting him to join the Royal Guard.

True to her word, Impa takes the three to where their children are, and all broadly smile at the sight before them.

Link, sword held loosely in his fingers, lying asleep on the ground. There are bits of grass in his hair and smudges of dirt on his face; Hylia only knows what he’s been up to. Princess Zelda, with her head resting on his stomach, is slumbering peacefully as well. In contrast to Link, she’s perfectly clean, save for some grass clinging to her skirt.

Whatever they were up to, it seems that Link defended her admirably.

The three take a moment to admire the innocently adorable scene, before the queen eventually bends down to pick up her daughter, careful not to jostle her too much. As Princess Zelda is nestled safely in the crook of her mother’s arm with her head lying on her shoulder, the Captain reaches down for his son, handling him the same, gentle manner as the queen did with her own child.

* * *

Link isn’t sure what draws him awake, but he suddenly is. He’s groggy and disoriented, but awake.

He gradually becomes aware of a few things. One, his head is resting against his father’s shoulder because the man is carrying him. Two, they’re back in the castle, and three…

Princess Zelda is being carried away in the opposite direction by the queen in the same fashion.

He sleepily raises a hand and waves.

Princess Zelda, equally drowsy, returns it with a smile and forthwith falls back asleep.

Heart flooded with warmth, Link follows her lead and returns to his slumber. His last thought before succumbing entirely is the wish to someday become her ‘pointed’ knight for real, then he could spend as much time with her as he wants.

He smirks.

And have the authority to declare Harcino a threat to Princess Zelda’s safety and kick him out.


End file.
